


No Danger of Finding Those Here (Controlled Circumstances)

by WednesdaysDaughter



Series: You Were MythTaken [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Minor Character Death, Monster of the Week, Pack Bonding, Slayer-Watcher Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2430680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WednesdaysDaughter/pseuds/WednesdaysDaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Just, don’t destroy the town if you can help it.”</p><p>With those parting words and a hug from his favorite magical teacher (way better than Dumbledore if you asked Stiles) the three of them were on a flight to California and the baddies that awaited them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Danger of Finding Those Here (Controlled Circumstances)

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought about Stiles owning a magic store and didn't feel like he owned one in a "Practical Magic" sense, but more of a "teacher/ohmygod a Watcher" sense and boom this happened. Taking two of my favorite shows and combining them can't possibly go wrong... can it?

When Stiles heard there was a Slayer in Beacon Hills, his bags were packed before Kira could give him the good news.

The council, if you could call it that was hesitant to send Stiles back home since the danger – if anything – had increased since he was sent to London seven years ago. However, Stiles wasn’t having any of their long-winded excuses and stated plainly (and loudly) that he had learned all he could from them and was ready to get to work before dead bodies started piling up.

Having both Lydia and Kira backing him up didn’t hurt his case nor did the fact that when he returned Stiles would have his own personal werewolf bodyguard: His best friend Scott.

“Just, don’t destroy the town if you can help it.”

With those parting words and a hug from his favorite magical teacher (way better than Dumbledore if you asked Stiles) the three of them were on a flight to California and the baddies that awaited them.

\- - - - - - - - - -

“So apparently our band is made out of selkies that Mr. Green captures every month during his fishing trips.”

Stiles looks up from the latest book to arrive from London and stares at Allison as his brain tries to take in everything she just said.

She gives him a minute and flicks though the numerous pages of notes on the circular table that looks like it’s from another time completely. Knowing her watcher, it probably was. Her eyes linger on the words “apocalypse” and “Sunnydale” and she sighs internally to herself. If Stiles expects her to save the world al-la Summer’s style he is sadly mistaken. She loves the Howlin' Diner too much to let Beacon Hills sink into the ground.

She knows for a fact that he does to.

“Selkies?” he asks and she nods.

Allison waits, and isn’t disappointed when Stiles flies from his seat and rushes to the back room where he brings back a book that looks older than Jackson and Danny combined and she holds back a cough when he displaces the dust coating the cover.

“Where the hell does Mr. Green fish? I mean, there are cases of selkies in New York and even one off the coast of North Carolina, but California? That’s a hell of a way to swim just to grab a bite to eat – or answer a call.”

The bell above the front door rings and Allison turns to greet Lydia and Scott.

Stiles waves a hand in acknowledgement, but his eyes never leave the yellow pages.

“Beastie of the week?” Lydia asks and Allison nods when Scott drops a bag of food on the table.

Predictably, that’s when Stiles looks up and beams at his best friend slash bodyguard.

“Have I told you how much I love you Scott?”

Scott pretends to think about this and then shakes his head.

“Not recently.”

“Well then I am a horrible best friend and your friendship is wasted on the likes of me.”

Allison grins when Scott agrees before kissing her cheek quickly and wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Hey hands off the slayer buddy. We’ll never get anything done once you start that business.” Stiles grouses with a mouth full of burger.

Lydia stares at him in disgust until he swallows and smiles sheepishly at her.

“Sorry.”

Her reply is lost when the back door is flung open and they watch Danny pull a bleeding Jackson across the floor and Allison can barely hear Stiles’ complaints about mopping the floor before Scott rushes over to help Jackson onto the table.

Lydia had the sense to grab Stiles’ various notes before they were ruined so they’re spared the epic Stilinski bitch face for a while until Danny tells them what happened.

“Of all the vamps in this town, you two were the ones who wanted to switch to the good side,” Stiles grumbles, glaring at the gash in Jackson’s side like it personally offended him.

Scott sucks the pain from Jackson and Lydia grabs a bag of O positive while Danny explains just how this was not in any way his fault. By the time he’s done, Jackson can sit up without wincing and the temporary flush from a feeding is trapped in his pale cheeks.

“Just another day in paradise,” Allison whispers to Stiles who snorts and goes back to selkie research.

\- - - - - - - - - -

It’s dark when Stiles comes to and his swears echo in the small room.

Kira had left early for a date with a person she wished to be left anonymous, much to the gang’s frustration. He hadn’t tried to stop her – or even pry the identity of her mystery suitor – he just wished her a goodnight and asked her if she minded coming in early the next morning.

With the shop closed and empty for the night, Stiles had let himself get lost in research. They didn’t have any solid proof, but Talia Hale was pretty insistent over the phone that there was a rogue omega running around. Not wanting to be caught unawares, Stiles had warned the others and told Scott to help the Hales go over the preserve.

“But I’m supposed to keep an eye on you!” Scott protested and he immediately shut his mouth at the look on Stiles’ face.

“Look dude, I may be the youngest watcher in history but I am anything but useless. You know that better than anyone. Now get out of here before I turn you into a kitten and let Isaac, Erica, and Boyd chase you around the store.”

Scott had rolled his eyes at the threat, but left Stiles in peace.

The fact he was now tied up in a dark room would only further Scott’s protective streak until Stiles wouldn’t be allowed to pee without Scott there to hand him toilet paper. The image made him shudder, but a smile curled his lips at the thought of Scott standing stoically behind him at a urinal like a secret service agent for the President.

It took his eyes a few minutes to get accustomed to the darkness to make sure he was truly alone and with a few whispered words his hands were unbound and a ball of green light hovered by his fingertips. It looked like a cell of some sort, a huge metal door with a slit in the middle surrounded by pale white walls made of painted bricks.

When Stiles saw the indentation of someone’s nails on the wall behind him a chill raced down his spine.

“Real original, lock someone up in an abandoned asylum” he whispered to himself before squatting down to sit in the middle of the room.

He closed his eyes and let his hands smother the light until the darkness swallowed him. Breathing deeply – in and out like he was taught to fight off his panic attacks – Stiles focused inward and felt for the spark resting deep within, just behind his ribs and warm like his mother’s embrace.

Words fell from Stiles’ lips like raindrops, splatting on the stained floor until the door blew off its hinges.

Before he could congratulate himself on a job well done, he was being pulled into someone’s arms and his chest protested as his lungs fought for air. The panic bubbling in his stomach stopped when Stiles felt familiar stubble brush against his throat and suddenly Stiles was the one clinging too tightly.

“Took you long enough,” he complained and his captor huffed sharply, parting Stiles’ hair before releasing him.

“Excuse me for not realizing you were taken from the shop until Kira called me panicking about the broken back door and what was your blood under the table.”

“Are you kidding me? I just cleaned that floor!”

Derek looks heavenward as if asking for patience before pulling Stiles out of the room and down the hall where Allison’s pulling an arrow out of a body and Scott’s on the phone with Lydia.

They see him at the same time and suddenly they’re on him – apologizing and sniffling and Stiles can barely make out their words, but there’s a tightness in his chest that he blames on the head wound that’s bleeding down the side of his face and when he’s finally set free he shakes off their concern and gives the corpse a swift kick before Derek takes him home.

“You know I could’ve gotten out of their by myself right?”

“Of course,” Derek agrees and Stiles may not be a werewolf but he knows Derek means it one-hundred percent and it adds a silver lining to his shitty night: A silver lining that thickens when Derek offers to join him in the shower.

\- - - - - - - - - -

He can’t hear her scream, but Stiles feels it in his bones so he’s already dressed by the time Allison calls.

The body belongs to a nurse at the hospital and Scott’s mother confirms the identity of one Clara Brown: A nurse who often worked the night shift with Melissa.

It’s all hands on deck when another body appears three days later and turns out to be an ultrasound tech by the name of Tamika Wilson.

Allison doubles her patrols with Kira and Cora covering areas she can’t make it to in one go. The Hale pack is spread out across town, Derek staying with Stiles and Lydia as Isaac and Boyd hit the Jungle with Danny and Jackson. Erica and Laura stick close to the police station with the Sheriff and Talia manages to bring Melissa dinner at the hospital every night in hopes of catching the creature responsible for two deaths.

Both Stiles and Allison consume worrying amounts of caffeine – holding back the crash until they reach a breakthrough: A breakthrough that comes in the form of an autopsy, which mentions severe blood loss and several missing organs. This breadcrumb leads Stiles to a smaller section of his personal library, but it’s not until the fourth victim that he makes a few calls including one to Alan Deaton.

“The bodies were found in the woods correct?” Alan asks and Stiles flips through the report of the latest victim to confirm the statement.

“There are at least twenty creatures, demons, which eat organs.” Stiles’ frustration grows with each flip of his favorite book: A gift from a watcher friend of his mother’s after she died.

“That’s true, but there are only a handful who hunt their pray in the woods. Tell me, was there anything else recovered at the sights? Something that might not necessarily be considered odd in nature, but perhaps might not fit in with the location or rather the season.”

Stiles pauses, “Actually, with the first three victims white feathers were found near the body and unless there’s a new species of large white bird flying around the preserve, I doubt they’re naturally occurring.”

He can practically hear Deaton’s smile through the phone.

“You’d be right Stiles. I believe what you’re dealing with is a Strzyga: A female demon from Slavic lore. It is said that when it dies one soul passes on, but another soul – a second soul – remains and the body is brought back to life. They supposedly hunt at night in the form of an owl – often white – and attacking those who wander into the woods. Strzyga feed off their prey’s blood and internal organs, but there are sources who believe they could live off animals, but humans are…”

“Tastier.”

Deaton doesn’t chuckle, but Stiles counts it as a win anyway.

“Indeed.”

“Ok, so how do we kill it? I’d imagine it catching it won’t be so hard since it likes to feast on people who get too close to nature. Actually now that I think about it, how come it hasn’t attacked the Hales? They live in the thick of the woods.”

“Most likely because it senses them as a threat; a greater predator than itself,” Deaton answers and Stiles is waving at Lydia who just walked through the front door.

“Call Allison and the others, I know what it is.”

“Stiles, the only way to kill a Strzyga is to behead it and bury both pieces of the body separately. You should also bury the head face down, just as a precaution.”

“Let me guess, the further away the two pieces are, the better?” Stiles grimaces and Deaton hums in agreement.

“Got it, thanks Deaton. Tell Marin I said hello and thanks for the mountain ash.”

“Be careful Stiles. I won’t be able to show my face again in London if my advice somehow gets you killed.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Stiles mutters and hangs up just as Allison and Derek arrive.

\- - - - - - - - - -

“Mr. Harris is evil.”

Lydia snorts and flips her hair over her shoulder so it hits Stiles in the face when he sits down next to her.

“Mr. Harris is also dead Stiles.”

“Yeah well his ghost is a pain in my ass and I really didn’t want to spend all afternoon exercising his clingy spirit.”

There’s a new bruise on Stiles’ cheek from a flying stapler and he’s pretty sure there are tacks digging into his arms. His suspicion is only confirmed when he sheds his plaid shirt and tacks fall onto the floor.

“I hate that high school.”

“Amen.”

\- - - - - - - - - -

“I think the old couple that lives two houses down from me are pagan gods who hate Christmas.”

Before Stiles dignify Scott’s claim with a reply, Isaac quirks his head in confusion and beats him to it.

“Wasn’t that an episode of Supernatural?”

“That doesn’t mean it can’t happen to us!” Scott exclaims and Stiles gently pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath.

“Look buddy, just because it’s been quiet lately doesn’t mean we can make up monsters and go a’slaying. I mean don’t get me wrong, Mr. and Mrs. Wald give me the wiggins too, but I don’t think that justifies sending Allison in there to scare the poor people to death with her pointy arrows and charming dimples.”

“She does have nice dimples,” Scott says dreamily and Stiles adds another tally to his ‘distract Scott by mentioning Allison’ scoreboard in his head.

“Of course that’s what you got out of that,” Lydia sighs and looks as Stiles as if his best friend’s inability to focus when Allison is mentioned is his fault.

“I think it’s sweet,” Allison grins and presses a quick kiss to the corner of Scott’s mouth and ignores the faces her friends make when Scott’s face goes all sappy.

“But I also think Stiles has a point. We should enjoy the rest and not go looking for trouble.”

“You might be the most sensible slayer out there Allison,” Stiles praises and she take a little bow before broaching the subject of the secret Santa project she and Kira had been planning for a week.

Four days later when Stiles and Scott are strung up by their ankles by mistletoe and dangling over a tub waiting to be drained of blood, Stiles swears that he’ll never trust old people again and that Scott deserves a million Allison kisses for not saying “I told you so” after they’re cut down by Derek and Boyd.

\- - - - - - - - - -

The creases in the letter make it hard to read, but Stiles has read it so many times he can recite it with his eyes closed.

It was the first thing she gave him, red hair so vibrant it leant to the sting his tears created in his eyes. Correction, it was the second thing she gave him; the first was a hug.

She rubbed his back as the letters blurred together. It took Stiles twenty-three minutes to read the letter from his mother and another fifteen to stop crying so hard his shoulders shook. There was a gentle voice speaking miles above him – warm like his fathers, with an accent he’d grown to love and imitate.

They guided him upstairs and it took him three days to ask who they were and why he had to leave his dad behind.

“Because people want to hurt you and you’re safest here,” she answered running her fingers though his short hair.

“Here you will learn to control your gift and help aid those who will need guidance,” he replied adjusting his glasses briefly.

Stiles asked all the normal questions: Would he ever see his dad again? What about Scott? Was he in trouble? They answered his questions with a patience that seemed to last forever. It wasn’t until she showed him her gift, her magic that Stiles began to heal.

“Is this Hogwarts?” he asked one day and Giles looked down to hide his grin and Willow’s laugh echoed in his ears for days.

“Better than Hogwarts,” she confessed and from that moment onward Stiles approached his training with wide eyes and an open heart.

Stiles folds the letter and tucks it into his spell book that was a gift on his thirteenth birthday and listens to Willow talk about their latest baddie.

“You should have seen the room after the demon exploded. I’ve never been a fan of tapioca pudding and now I’m even less so.”

Stiles laughs and listens to voices interject – trying to make sure he gets the full story from as many sources as possible. He chats briefly with Giles about the latest edition of his library and he even manages to get a quick hello from Buffy before she heads out to meet up with Xander. He remembers meeting Buffy Summers before his return to California and he was a little star-struck. After reading about her years as a slayer, he had no choice.

A pebble hits his window and Stiles reluctantly says goodbye to Willow and leans out the window to see Scott, Allison, and Lydia standing under a tree with sleeping bags and a big cooler. It is pack night – time to head over to the Hale property and settle in for a bad guy free night.

“Move it or lose it Stilinski!” Jackson calls from his Porsche and Stiles sends a little spell his way. Jackson’s “manly” yell motivates Stiles to grab his bag and race down the stairs. He stops for a quick Stilinski hug and is in his Jeep before the spell wears off and Jackson is no longer trapped in his car.

It’s a race to the refurbished Hale house and before Jackson can enact his revenge, Stiles is pulled out of the Jeep and running for his life as Erica pulls him into the aggressive game of flashlight tag.

Kira screams as Malia – the mysterious suitor of mystery – tackled her into the soft grass and rubs their noses together in victory. The werecoyote lifts her head back to howl and it’s soon joined by wolves and humans and vampires until Talia comes out to announce the bonfire is ready and then it’s a mad dash to the backyard and the bags of marshmallows stashed around the property.

Pack nights are the best.

\- - - - - - - - - -

“Can you believe it’s been two years already?”

Allison sips her Coke quietly and shakes her head.

“I feel like so much has happened, so much more than what can possibly happen in two years. It doesn’t seem long enough to fit everything in.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Stiles clinks his bottle against hers and they settle into silence. There are clouds in the distance, but the sky above them is cloud free; inky black and sparkled with tiny stars millions of miles away. Talia gave Stiles the thick blanket they’re lying on as a Christmas present and he’s wearing the scarf Willow knitted him a few years back.

Stiles uses his magic to heat their sweaters to keep them warm against the cool breeze that seems content to flutter around them.

The store’s been closed for hours and it’s just the two of them huddling together on the roof as they contemplate the vastness of everything laid before them.

“We were just kids,” Allison whispers into the darkness and Stiles reaches out until he’s holding her hand securely in his.

“Honestly, I don’t think we were ever kids, or we weren’t meant to be for long anyway.”

“It’s not fair.”

Stiles fills his lungs with the chilly air and exhales softly when he hears Allison’s bottle tip over.

“Maybe not, but we’re doing alright aren’t we?”

Allison turns her head and stares at him, but he takes his time constructing his next sentences. He doesn’t want bitterness to settle in Allison’s heart like it has in the hearts of so many slayers before her.

“We survived high school and managed to get two awesome supernatural boyfriends without any love potions or other heinous means. We haven’t destroyed the town and you haven’t died once, which I was sort of expecting after the stories I was told back in London. Not to mention, there’s a peace between the Hales and the other oddballs we have in our little group, unlike years ago when there was this messy territorial spat that nearly tore Beacon Hills in pieces. All things considered, I’d count these past couple years as a win even if we did lose some things along the way.”

Allison’s smile is soft and open and it makes Stiles feel like he’s earned his title; that he’s earned her trust after fighting hard in the beginning.

“You’re a closet romantic aren’t you Stiles?”

He cackles and she beams and he knows that his slayer is going to be just fine.

They all are.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm thinking this is just going to be a cute little series that I'll occasionally update with "Monster of the Week" fics and maybe, when I have the time, a fic of how Allison accepts the role of the slayer and Stiles' arrival in town and announcing to her and Chris that he was going to be her watcher.


End file.
